


Love as Alchemy

by sugartrash



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Parenthood, Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3710548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugartrash/pseuds/sugartrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meandering walk through the world of DAI after the defeat of Corypheus.</p><ul>
<li>pairings will be added as they occur; pairings may change along the way but D/B won't as they're a core unit</li>
<li>general warnings will be aggregated in the main tags; minor warnings specific to a chapter will be noted at the beginning</li>
<li>i don't have a plot (yet), those just happen along the way</li>
<li>i really hate summarizing chapters, i'm so sorry, maybe i'll just put in 'happy warnings' too or something</li>
<li>i respond to comments in batches and sporadically, i am super self-conscious, but carry on</li>
</ul>
            </blockquote>





	1. Favour for a Friend

"You could always ask someone." Krem glanced up at Bull before turning his attention back to his armour. He tapped the first of a half-dozen rivets into place with a few swift blows of a mallet. Best not to put the boss on the spot too quickly. Bull needed careful handling when he was already tense. "Dorian already said he doesn't care who does it, right?"

"Ask someone what?" Bull snorted irritably, twitching like he itched all over--he wasn't good at handling certain problems. If it involved information or hitting things, it was all good. This was personal stuff. Worse, it was personal stuff that went against the Qun. "Hey, mind if me or my Vint boyfriend there get you knocked up? Yeah. That'll go over great. This wouldn't be a problem under the Qun." He grunted as he got to his feet, waving off anything else Krem had to say.

Krem finished putting a new strap on his chestplate to the sound of Bull clanking and thumping the length of the armoury. Back and forth. It was impossible to be pissed at him when he was actually upset about something. Adopt? Who was going to just hand a kid over to a Tevinter nobleman, a dreaded magister for all intents and purposes down here in the south, and a Tal-Vashoth? Even if someone would, it would look bad. Worse, it would look bad and someone else might decide to do something about it.

"Wouldn't be a problem if you asked a friend." Krem picked up a greave next. Damn thing was dented all to hell, and pitted. That's what he got for floundering around out in the Fallow Mire to haul corpses for plague cures. Might be best to look for a replacement set.

"You know someone with the nine months to spend on that? You want me to ask the Inquisitor if she's got time?" Bull put his hands on his hips, glaring daggers. Anyone else would have gotten out of the way. Krem wasn't worried. Instead, he dug the hole a little deeper. Wasn't like Bull could run the Chargers without him and Bull didn't forget, not even when he was pissed off.

"Starting to sound like you don't want a solution."

"What?" Bull's roar silenced the entire room for a moment, then someone bravely brought their hammer down on a blade before it cooled too much. Good. Best to keep having this conversation in private. The armoury was perfect for that. Too public for eavesdroppers, too noisy to be overheard.

Krem turned the greaves over one more time, then resigned himself to the reality of needing a new set. Fortunately, there were plenty of blanks to work with and, being in favour with the Inquisitor at the moment, he could pretty much help himself. It was always nice to be appreciated.

"You're not looking for a solution." Krem really liked the Orlesian buckles on his old greaves, first job was to salvage those before he stripped the leather and threw the metal in the scrap bin. "You're looking for a way out."

"This is important to Dorian." Bull's hands came down on the workbench so hard that half the tools leapt off onto the floor--either from the impact or sheer terror. Hot breath huffed off Krem's cheek. "You think I don't want a solution?"

"Nope." Krem pulled back enough to look Bull in the eye. "I think the idea of raising a kid scares the shit out of you. I think it'd be the thing that really makes you feel like Tal-Vashoth, being a father." He patted Bull on his rage-heated, scarred cheek, just under the eyepatch. "Otherwise you'd have a solution already. There's nothing you can't fix if you want to, boss. By yourself or with us, one way or another, you always come through."

"Fuck you, Krem." Bull pushed away from the workbench, then bent to pick up the tools. "Don't know why I keep you around." Krem let Bull be while he found the right length of greaves over in the stock rack.

"I can't just ask a stranger," Bull muttered when Krem got back in earshot. He was toying with the salvaged buckles, rubbing tarnish off of one as though it actually mattered right then. Krem knew an apology when he saw one. "Feels wrong to ask anyone to do something like that for us. It's...personal. And it'd have to be someone Dorian likes, at least. Human. Best bet at having a kid around here."

"Mmhm." Krem considered his options for some designwork on the greaves. Wasn't like anyone ever looked at them except, well, him. And anyone else who liked armour as much as he did. Wasn't like he had much else to do between guarding supply runs for Dagna and Morris. He could take the time.

"You got a suggestion for a woman who's gonna be fine with banging Dorian--and that's if he's fine with it--then handing over whatever comes out and letting us have it?" Bull crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his good eye as he watched Krem smooth out a piece of scrap paper.

"Sorry, boss." Krem fumbled in his pocket for a pencil. "Not a clue."

"Then why..." Bull exhaled between clenched teeth like a kettle about to boil over. "Krem."

"On the other hand." Krem eyed the greaves, then the paper, and decided to go for a twisted rashvine motif. It was pernicious and burned like hell but it was pretty. He liked it better than most flowers. "I could do it."

Bull made the same noise he did when Krem managed to nail him in the stomach with a shield bash. "Y-you?"

"Why not?" Krem shrugged. He'd had this argument with himself about twenty times in the last week and the answer was always the same. "Waste not, want not and all that. You and Dorian want this, I could do it for you. As a friend."

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe because his face was crammed into Bull's ample chest. So much for getting that design done.

"You are the best." Bull kissed the top of his head. Actual. Kissing.

"Boss. You're. We're." Krem wriggled enough to be able to breathe, only to get another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth. "People are staring." Not that he could see anything but the underside of Bull's chin.

"Yeah. Sorry. Sorry." Bull put him down, carefully, then patted his hair and clothes back into place. "You'd do that for us?"

"Wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." Krem wiped a tear off Bull's cheek as it escaped from under the eyepatch. Another followed a scar down the other side of Bull's nose and Krem wiped that away, too. "Figure I owe you my life a few times. Seems a good way to pay it off."


	2. Details, Details

"And you're sure about this?" Dorian knew he'd asked the question too many times when he got a look at Krem's face across the library table.

"I may be soporati but I am capable of complex, rational thought," Krem ground out.

"It's not that." Dorian leaned back in his chair. Books on herbalism and midwifery were piled high around them, the table between them was littered with notes. "It's just that you must have sacrificed a great deal to get where you are and I would regret anything that caused you, or your reputation, harm. And, in truth, I am unaccustomed to altruism on any level, as you well know."

"You're fine with being waited on hand and foot by slaves but someone doing something for you because you're a friend is hard." Krem's expression was carefully neutral.

"Well, when you put it that way..." Dorian ran a hand over his face. "I'm no longer complacent enough to even feign comfort about slavery. No matter how well we treated ours, it didn't compensate for their lack of agency. It troubles me a great deal that I accepted it at all. Cultural immersion is not an excuse for being unable to identify egregious acts of inhumanity. As for this arrangement you've negotiated with Bull, well, I understand why you would do such a thing for him so I suppose I should stop questioning you."

"We'd get a lot further if you focused." Krem shook his head so that his neck cracked.

"Is this stressful for you?" Dorian picked up his quill again to make some more notes on distillation techniques. "Putting up with me, I mean. Not the decision."

"A little," Krem admitted. He opened Ines Arancia's Botanical Compendium to the index.

"You don't like me very much. I'm used to that."

"Who said I didn't like you?" Krem let the Compendium hit the table with a thump. The look he gave Dorian was scathing. "I like you fine when you're not whining about how people don't like you because they think you're a magister. You did right by the Inquisition and by Bull, so I don't give a damn about the rest. You're good at what you do, you don't complain much, and you're not bad to look at. Anyone says I don't like you, they can discuss it with my fist. Can we please get on with a plan now?"

"As you wish." Dorian let it go. Coming from Krem, that was practically a declaration of affection. He was oddly flattered. It was strange to be included in the familial sphere of loyalty that surrounded Bull and his men.

"You'd think you altus types would have this getting people knocked up business down to an art," Krem grumbled. "You breed your kin like other people breed their cattle. Your family is going to try to have me killed for this, you know."

"Don't even say that." That was a genuinely horrifying thought and, while Dorian was certain Krem was being facetious, a very real possibility. "It's not a joke."

"What, really?" Krem stopped writing to look at him. "Huh. Good to know." He shrugged, then went back to his notes.

"Good to know?" Dorian felt a tic twitch just below his left eye. His palms were cold and damp and his stomach churned. "Someone might kill you for sullying the Pavus name and you just say 'good to know'?"

"Try to kill me. Try. People try to kill me all the time," Krem said laconically. "Some of them don't even warn me first. You'll see how no one's succeeded so far. So, yes, good to know."

"I hate the idea of putting you in--"

"Finish that sentence and you won't be making babies with anyone." Krem didn't look up from his notes. "This isn't going to be any more dangerous than any other assignment."

"Fine. See if I try to take care of you ever again." Dorian couldn't help feeling a little sullen about it.

"Please, don't. It would make the boss sad if I broke your pretty face." Krem reached over and stole a piece of paper from in front of Dorian. "Or any other pretty parts of you. I'm doing this to make him less sad."

"Fair enough." Dorian put his chin in his hand while he watched Krem work. For some reason it was far more engaging than reading through the dusty tomes himself. Perhaps because Krem was more of a mystery than the lost arts of elven midwifery. "I like you, too, by the way. And believe me, I'm as surprised as you are about that."

"Also good to know. One big happy family."

"Would that be so bad?"

Now Krem stopped writing and looked up. "I'm not interested in either of you that way. You're not my types."

"I don't mean sex." Dorian huffed in frustration. Men. "I mean family. Like you said, my people don't make families, we make breeding pairs. I just meant..." Now that he was trying to explain it, he wasn't sure what he meant because he didn't have any idea what he was talking about. "Family. You will be. I hope. I mean. You don't need to disappear. You won't, of course, because your job is here. I hope you won't. But it's not just a job, is it? It doesn't have to be. Children, they shouldn't be a job or a means to an end, they should be more than that. I don't want anything that looks like what I grew up with. Am I making any sense? Please say something so I stop talking."

Krem laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be around when it's done. Someone has to keep the Chargers in line, especially since I'm pretty sure Bull is going to want to stay back to play house."

"House. We don't have a house." Dorian's head spun. The magnitude of their lack of preparedness was suddenly overwhelming. "I mean, we don't even share a room. Where are we going to put it? Should I ask Josephine for different apartments? Half of Skyhold is still full of holes, babies need to be warm. They need things. Things. Like where you put them, the cradle, and they need nappies. Do you buy those?"

"Good job getting the panicking out of the way before I'm pregnant." Krem rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a long nine months if it's like this the whole time."

 

 


	3. Cracks and Broken Places

"We need a house."

Bull cracked his eye open. Pitch black in the room. No sound but the wind battering Skyhold, the tavern below was silent. Must have been dreaming. Dorian was a warm, welcome weight against his left side. Bull sighed contentedly and closed his eye again.

"Or maybe an estate. A villa. Property."

That was not a dream. "We what?" Bull hadn't actually owned anything to speak of in his life, not beyond the clothes on his back and only then after he'd left the Qun. A house?

"If we're having a child, we should have something better than this." Dorian sat up, leaving Bull chilled as he took most of the covers with him. "It snowed on us last week, Bull. It cannot snow on our baby."

"It'll be fixed by the time the baby's here. More important to shore up our defences for now." Bull reached out in the dark and got hold of Dorian's shoulder. "Get back here, I'm cold."

"Well, imagine how our child will feel." Dorian got all the way out of bed instead, taking the heavy blanket with him, of course. "Dragged into this mess of a world without a proper home. Corypheus is dead, we can spare the resources to put a roof over our heads."

"We have a home. Why do you think we don't?" Bull gave up and rolled over to feel around until he found where he'd hung his robe over the headboard of the salvaged bed. "We have Skyhold. The Inquisitor isn't going to kick us out for having a baby."

"Yes, but it's not ours, Skyhold." Dorian sounded truly frustrated.

"This is where we live, Dorian." Bull got up and lit the lamp on the desk before Dorian crashed into something pacing around in the dark. "It's where our friends are, our work, everything. What would we have somewhere else that isn't here?"

"You mean aside from an intact roof and, Maker forfend, maybe windows? Possibly some form of plumbing? More than one room?" Somehow, Dorian made looking dishevelled and panicked sexier than most people who were actually working at being sexy, which made talking about things like the future more than a little difficult. "I'm not saying we need anything palatial but that's what people do, you know? They get married, they move into a residence together, they raise their children there."

"That's what your people do." Bull took him by the shoulders, gently, and then kissed him on the mouth. Dorian allowed it, but barely. The set of his shoulders was grudging, his mouth was taut with anxiety. "Lot of folks don't. Not saying you can't have a house. Just that we don't need one. There's people out there raising their kids in tents and lean-tos, Dorian. Tonight, someone's giving birth in the back of a lord's kitchen by the light of the last embers in the hearth. In Par Vollen, someone's handing over their infant to the tamassrans before their lying-in time. A Dalish elf is birthing in the shelter of an aravel with the halla standing watch. Those babies won't have homes of their own, but it doesn't mean they won't have family, that they won't be loved."

"I just want our child to have everything." Dorian pulled away. Even naked except for the blanket clutched around him, there was dignity to the way he walked. At the window, he pushed open the shutters to let in the cutting wind and the frozen starlight.

"Lot of people would say you had everything." Bull slid his arms around Dorian's waist from behind and Dorian leaned into him with a shuddering sigh. "You sure it's the house you're worried about? The roof? The windows? The weather?"

"I'm going to be a terrible father." Dorian's voice cracked. "This is a terrible idea."

"I disagree. On both counts." Bull leaned in carefully to kiss Dorian's cheek and found it wet with tears. "Dorian. You ass. You're not your father. For one thing, I wouldn't fuck your father unless it was with a sword. Or an axe."

Dorian snorted with laughter, then sniffled. "That's genuinely disturbing. I'm not sure I hate my father quite that much anymore. Several years ago, I'd have been offering to commission you a special fucking axe."

"Now I kind of want a fucking axe anyway," Bull said pensively as his mind wandered off to think about what such a thing would even look like. Then he remembered that he'd been trying to talk about something important here. "And anyway, this is what I mean about the house thing. We can have a house anywhere you want, but we don't need one. We have what matters right here in Skyhold. It's not just you doing this. It's you, and me, and Krem, and the rest of the guys, and if you think Sera's going to let you fuck up a kid you have another thing coming and it's probably wrapped in bees."

That got another laugh, a chuckle this time, and Dorian leaned up to kiss Bull on the jaw. "And probably some wasps. I see your point. It's difficult to remember is all. I'm not used to this, still, this family business."

"Do you really think Krem would do this if he thought you were going to be a shit father? I didn't ask him." Bull still got tight in the throat about that, probably would for the rest of his life. "He offered to do this for us. You know how he's all 'no-big-deal' about it, but it's a big fucking deal. He's not just doing it for me. He wouldn't let me make a bad decision like that, that's why I trust him the way I do."

"Yes, I really can't fathom why he'd--"

"Because he has faith in us," Bull said flatly. "You and me. And he wants to do this for us. For our family. That's what our kid is coming into. So don't be worrying about fucking up. We're going to fuck up some, sure, but it won't be big. Though maybe we don't want to live over a tavern because I'd like to sleep some time in the next five years."

"Well, don't plan on starting now." Dorian turned around in his arms and kissed him on the mouth as he let the blanket drop. "I'm cold and you need to warm me up." Dorian slid his icy hands under Bull's robe, parting it so that they were skin to skin when they kissed again.

"Whose fault is that?" Bull wasn't complaining. "You feel warm enough to me," he added as he got both hands on Dorian's bare ass.

"I'm not a brute like you." Dorian's grin came through in his voice. "I'm a delicate hothouse flower."

"Well, you're going to get plucked." Bull lifted Dorian off his feet and Dorian wrapped his legs around Bull's waist. That never got old, the way Dorian was so lean and limber and willing. Didn't matter what Bull did, he just went with it and made it feel good. "And then some."

"You're right," Dorian said unexpectedly, between kisses.

"That's hot." Bull dropped him into bed, carefully, then crawled in after him. "Me being right. What am I right about?"

"Oh, everything I need being here. Even if the snow does come in sometimes."

 

 


	4. The Sour Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mention of sexual assault & abortion in this chapter
> 
> * * *

"So this is really a thing that's going to happen," Bull said as he picked Krem up off the ground by the scruff of the neck. "You better learn to block that hit if you're going to be walking around with a baby in you."

"Stop helping. I can do it." Krem flailed at Bull until he let go. "I was trying something different and it didn't work. Go again." His shoulder on the shield side sang with pain, his guts felt like his armour had caved in on them from the hit. The angles on this new shield were awkward but the templars swore by the shape of it. Krem wasn't convinced.

"If it doesn't work out..." Bull rolled his head to loosen up his neck, took a couple swings at a bush with his practice sword.

"It'll be fine." Krem settled into a defensive crouch. "Now come at me again. I just need to take the hit a little further to the outside to get the deflection right."

"This is what I mean. I nearly took your arm off right there and you're back at it. Perfectionist." Bull took a few paces back, switching the sword from hand to hand as he did. Still warming up. Every year it took him longer in the mornings. "I just want you to know it's okay. I mean, we don't even know if--"

Bull closed on Krem halfway through the sentence and Krem was ready for him. Didn't get that familiarity in a real fight but it was good for this kind of practice. He caught the full swing on the shield but the deflection worked this time. Sword and shield screeched in protest as Krem pushed up the blade to catch Bull in the ribs with a jab of his own sword, then kicked him in the knee as he jumped away to get some distance for a backhand swing to the neck that Bull barely stopped with his armoured shoulder.

"Perfectly capable of getting pregnant, boss," Krem said flatly, backing off to let Bull recover so they could try it again. "It's happened before."

"You what?" Bull stopped swearing under his breath. "When? Are you all right? Why didn't you tell me?" He rubbed his knee, looking wounded--about the revelation, not the injury. Briefly, Krem felt guilty for the blow, neither of Bull's knees were in great shape.

"Nothing to tell. Shit happens." Funny, he'd been thinking of it as a positive thing that'd put Bull's mind at ease, not something to get upset about. "I took care of it, it's all good. Didn't even miss work."

"Yeah, but did you, I mean..." Bull floundered around, gesturing helplessly. "Nobody hurt you, right? Because I have to go kill them if they hurt you, if you didn't kill them already. If you did, I can just dig them up and kill them again."

"No." Krem rolled his eyes at that. "For fuck's sake, boss. I wanted the sex. Just. Like I said: shit happens, you know?"

"You're sure." Bull narrowed his eye and glared at Krem like he could see into Krem's brain.

"Completely. Won't say the other hasn't happened but that's totally unrelated. Wasn't a man so I'm sure about that as well. Now can we please get back to hitting each other already?" Talking was hardly one of Krem's favourite pastimes.

"People are terrible," Bull grumped. "Not you. You're not people. You're _my_ people."

"Good to know, mother." Krem teased him about that but Bull was actually going to make a pretty good mother. "This time, hit me like you think I know how to fight. That last one was insulting, I never should have been able to close on you like that. Not if you actually respected me."

"Hey. I respect you." Bull made a sound like a disgruntled druffalo as he squared up for another round. "When you're crying because I broke your shoulder, remember that."

It wasn't actually broken. "It's not broken." Krem held a chilled, wet pad of wool to his shoulder.

"Drink this." Dorian pressed a glass into his hand, then turned to nail Bull with a glare. "Did you really have to hit him so hard?"

"Yes," Bull and Krem said at the same time.

"He was respecting me," Krem clarified. "Otherwise I could get gutted in a fight and it'd all be because my boss was being too precious about hitting me."

"And then your brilliant solution, both of you, was to go to the tavern?" Dorian stepped aside so that the dwarf serving girl could deliver the wine and ale they'd been waiting for. "Because getting drunk solves everything?"

"I'd have taken him to the infirmary but that surgeon down there keeps putting leeches on people." Bull wrinkled his nose. "You people discover something and you use it for everything, even when it makes no sense. Headache? Leeches. Can't take a shit? Leeches. Head chopped off? Leeches. Figured Stitches would be through here around lunch and we'd wait for him until then. We do all right, you know. I haven't gotten him killed yet."

"Yes, I quite like how both of you keep holding up being 'not dead' as though it was some kind of merit award. You do realize that it's a very low bar." Dorian laid his hand on the cold pad on Krem's shoulder and it got a little colder still.

"I hate leeches." Krem's stomach flipped at the thought. "Disgusting little bloodsucking slimebags. Reminds me of being back in Tevinter." That got him a laugh from both Bull and Dorian.

"She says it's duty but duty isn't a weapon, still she uses it like one." Cole slid into the seat between Bull and Krem, back near the wall. "She hurts him with it and gives it back to him, makes him hold it while he's bleeding from the wounds it made."

"She sounds like a bitch." Bull poured half a glass of wine and put it in front of Cole.

"Yes, I think she was." Cole took the glass in both hands to drink from it. "Oh, hello," he added. "I forget that part."

"That's okay." Krem reached over with his good hand to ruffle Cole's feathery, pale hair. "We know what you meant."

"You do, yes, you always know." Cole tilted his head as he squinted at Krem. "You should drink your potion. You're going to be very busy soon."

"How do you know that?" Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and loomed over the table quite impressively.

"I don't." Cole shrugged, unmoved by Dorian's glare. "I don't know. They know." He nodded at the air over the table. "I heard it from them. They only come when something's happening. So I guessed."

"Fair enough." Krem took a drink from the glass Dorian had given him, then gagged on the resinous taste. The texture was nearly as bad, almost gelatinous. "Andraste's ass, you can't make it taste any better than this?"

"You get hurt often enough," Dorian said archly. "I'm not encouraging you by making the cure taste better."

"It tastes bad because he likes you." Cole chuckled softly into his glass of wine. "He's like that. All sour to keep his sweet safe."


	5. Good Men Don't Sleep

Dawn drew lines of gold along the crenellations of Skyhold's parapets and turned the western sky deep purple. The sun wasn't high enough to cut the chill but its touch on the back of Cullen's neck was welcome. He'd been awake since the darkest part of the night, walking the walls and pacing the halls. In the morning light, he ran the fingers of his mind along the idyllic scene before him, tracing the mist swirling in the greening garden and testing the slow ripple of the banners over the keep.

It was habit now, maybe even necessity, this ritual. He felt the world for the seams in it, the flaws that might mark it as less than real. This section of the wall was new, the stone was still gritty and war under his hands. He leaned into it until the freshly cut edge lit up the nerves in his palms with pain. Sometimes the world was terrifyingly perfect. Too perfect to be--

"Real," a soft voice said behind him. "This is real. Don't be afraid. You're awake."

Cullen spun, hand on the hilt of his sword in spite of himself. He knew the voice and his rational self told him the speaker meant him no harm. "Cole."

"I didn't mean to startle you." Cole didn't react to the half-drawn sword or the step Cullen took toward him. "I just thought you should know. You've been worrying about it all night."

"I've told you not to listen to me." Cullen struggled to quiet the terror that was fuelling a rage so intense that his hand ached from clutching his sword...as if it would help. It hadn't helped. You couldn't fight what was in your own mind.

"I didn't mean to." Cole was still so calm, his clear eyes full of pity and sorrow. "You were shouting. You don't know you're doing it but you shout sometimes, even when you're not having the dreams."

"You shouldn't come near me." Cullen turned away, trying to regain his composure. As the anger ebbed, his body threatened to shame him with shaking. "I could have killed you." Finally, he was able to let go of the sword and put both hands back on the stone. The cold soothed a little, grounded him.

"I know." Cole came to stand beside him, mirroring his pose. "That would be okay, if it helped you."

"You...what?" Cullen couldn't look at Cole, the newly risen sun made him luminous, ethereal. Unreal.

"If you needed to kill me, it would be all right. You deserve to be better, not to hurt anymore. But I don't think it would help you," Cole explained, his tone certain and serious. "Some people might miss me and be unhappy with you. They wouldn't understand. And you would blame yourself for doing something wrong to me, even if it was a good thing for you. You're like that. You do what you think is right even if it hurts you."

"Of course I do." Cullen didn't know what else to say to that. "I don't want to kill you, Cole. That's why you shouldn't come around. Even if I am being loud. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You did, but it's all right. You were afraid. You're afraid that demons will come. And the happier you are, the more you're afraid, because you're happy. That's very sad." Cole's voice broke. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. You should know that it won't happen again."

"How do you know?" Cullen wasn't about to believe anything the boy said but he wanted to hear it anyway.

"You can't see yourself the way others do. Not in this world. Not in the Fade. You're very bad at it, and that's surprising because I think you're good at almost everything," Cole said rapidly. "You can't see that you're like Skyhold. You're a fortress. Your mind has high, thick walls and terrible defences to defeat whatever comes to assault you. When you were young, you were like Haven. You were small and hopeful and open and beautiful, built on the memory of things that were sad and pure. Then the demons came and tried to destroy you."

"And now I'm like Skyhold." Cullen's tongue felt numb against the words. He wanted them to be true, couldn't trust them because of it.

"You are. In the Fade you're a shining fortress of stone and light. Fierce and forever. Safe." Cole's cold fingers brushed the back of Cullen's hand like the touch of a ghost. "They're afraid of you. You're too strong. It won't happen again because they're selfish and wanting, they don't want to try, they only want what they want. You won't give it to them so they won't try, they'll turn to weaker minds for their purpose. You're safe, Cullen."

The last thing Cullen felt was safe. "That's marginally reassuring."

"You're lying, but that's okay." Cole patted his hand again. "Trying to make me feel better, like I helped. Me. After everything. That's why you're the best person I know, Cullen. I hope you're not alone in your Skyhold too long. You get lonely there, when you're not afraid. It's not good. I'm going away now, so you can feel better."

Cullen turned reflexively to tell Cole not to go on his account but the rampart was empty save for a swirl of cold wind. Gone. A door banged open behind him and Cullen whirled to face whatever came next.

"Commander!" Krem, all brusque cheer and cheeky grin. Solid and real, the rattle of armour and the flash of sunlight on his ruddy hair. "You're a hard man to find."

"Apologies for that, am I meant to be somewhere?" It was early but maybe he'd scheduled a meeting for... Cullen fumbled through the surreal haze of his encounter with Cole for his memories of yesterday.

"Nah, it's just me." Krem paused, tilted his head. "Everything all right?"

"Yes. Just. Didn't sleep. And did you see Cole on your way up?" Cullen couldn't remember what direction he'd come from now.

"No, but he's slippery when he wants to be." Krem shrugged it off. "He wasn't bothering you, was he? He usually tries to keep his distance from you for whatever weird reason he's got."

"I know. He was trying to be helpful. As usual." Cullen exhaled slowly. He felt as though he'd been carrying one of the rampart stones around all night and only now put it down.

"He does that. He's fond of you, you know," Krem said with a wry grin. "Think he's got a little hero worship going on."

"Me?" That was as surreal as the rest of the morning.

"You." Krem crossed his arms over his chest as he gave Cullen a searching look. "Why not? It's practically epidemic around here."

"I...it's not...it's me. I really don't think...the Inquisitor is..." Cullen floundered helplessly and, fleetingly, wondered how best to escape. Work, work was a good escape. "You needed me for something."

"Not so much. More thought maybe you needed me." Krem wasn't laughing at him, at least. Not openly. Laughter still came through in his voice and the flash in his eyes, which was almost worse. "Just that some of our boys might be headed out on business soon and I remembered it was by where your family settled--from the letters that came in for you. Thought I'd see if you wanted anything taken that way."

"That's thoughtful of you." The rush of gratification was grounding, if awkward. Cullen was terrible at this, at being helped. "Yes. Let me know when you're going. I'll send a letter and a few items, if they've room for it."

"Sure thing." Krem nodded, then stepped away. "You want me to have a word with Cole? He listens to me once in a while."

"No. Thank you." Cullen turned back to the scene below. Skyhold was waking now, voices rose with the smell of incense lit in the garden shrines. "We're fine. I'm fine."


	6. Get Used To It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull/Dorian smooshy feels.

Bull rolled out of bed and picked his way across the room as silently as possible. Dorian slept the sleep of the privileged, deep and careless, but no sense taking chances. It was already past dawn and yet an hour at least until Dorian would be ready to, grudgingly, greet the world. Hurrying it only led to unhappiness all around.

Quietly, Bull swung the waiting pot of water over the hearth and stirred the embers before sliding on a few pieces of wood. Dorian hated shaving with cold water. A year ago, Bull would have laughed at the notion that he'd find those foibles endearing, that he wouldn't look down his oft-broken nose at Dorian's clutter of salves and balms and unguents. Now, they served a purpose.

It was one thing to pretend to be Tal-Vashoth and another to actually be one. Without the Inquisition, without the Chargers, and without Dorian, he risked finding himself adrift and at the mercy of his moods. A qunari was good at being the thing he the Qun needed him to be. Everything Bull had been asked to be, he'd been to his core--until the end.

Bull needed his people to help define his purpose for him, people he trusted. Duty, even duty to Dorian's whims, kept him calm. Right now, listening to the cadence of Dorian's breathing guided his actions, told him he was succeeding at being careful and quiet. It was good. It wasn't the same as being beholden to the Qun. It was a choice, one he made every day, and one that made him happy. The people and the purposes he loved, those were his Qun now.

No sense waiting around for the water to heat on his own account, though. Cold was good enough for him, kept the skin tough. Bull swung his arms to get the blood flowing, then poured water into the basin at the dressing table so he could wash. The thing looked like an Orlesian antique, he had no idea where Dorian had found it in Skyhold or who'd wrestled it up here--certainly not Dorian himself unless magic had been involved.

They really had to come up with something better than stumbling into one of their rooms and leaving their belongings scattered from door to bed on their way to fucking. Bull's back twinged as he bent to free one of his boots from Dorian's silk scarf, wringing an inadvertent grunt out of him when what he wanted to do was swear a blue streak. He pushed the hot streak of pain and the awareness of his age out of his mind, then took greater care trying to get the other boot out from under the desk without catching his horns on anything.

"Amatus." Dorian's voice was heavy with sleep and worry. "Does it hurt?"

Bull managed to straighten enough that he could turn and look at Dorian. "Only when I breathe," he said wryly. "I've had worse." That was the really annoying thing--being hurt outside of a fight meant you didn't get the adrenaline anaesthetic or the pride in how you'd earned the pain you'd usually have to get you through it.

Dorian's eyes were barely open but he beckoned to Bull to come back to him. "I'll rub it for you. It's my fault, anyway."

"I did not hurt myself having sex," Bull grumbled. Still, he wasn't going to pass up a little attention before he dragged himself downstairs to deal with Chargers business. The bed creaked as he sat down, the poor old thing wasn't going to hold up to their antics much longer and he felt a surge of sympathy for it.

"Perish the thought." Dorian kissed him on the shoulder, then the nape of the neck. "The Iron Bull would never suffer an injury outside of glorious battle."

"Glorious battle with the back stairs." Bull ran a hand over his face. It had been a long winter. "All this magic around here, you'd think someone could work out how to keep the ice off them."

"Or, you could walk. Like people do," Dorian said briskly. He padded over to the dressing table where he selected one of the many jars of unlabelled, mysterious substances. Bull wasn't inclined to help himself to any of it. Some of it was for offensive purposes and Dorian didn't use any sorting method he could figure out.

"I was late. I'm in charge. I can't be late. Do you remember why I was late?" Bull turned to watch him. Dorian didn't spend nearly enough time naked. They needed to live somewhere warmer.

"I do." Dorian looked up from inspecting the contents of the jar and smiled, a slow smile that lit up his eyes and made Bull's heart skip. "In detail. And I think of it quite frequently. It's not often we do something I haven't done before."

"We can do it later, right now I need to get downstairs before Krem takes over Tevinter or something because he's bored." As soon as Dorian got within reach, Bull got a hand on his waist to pull him close. Dorian smelled warm and sweet, like their bed, and his belly was silky under Bull's lips.

"Tell him that if he takes over Tevinter without me, I'm going to be extremely annoyed with him." Dorian kissed the top of Bull's head before pulling away so that he could get back in bed behind him. "Maybe we should consider doing it as a bonding exercise. I still feel rather awkward around him. Me. Awkward. It can't be tolerated."

"I think you're just not good at being accepted." Bull leaned forward so Dorian could rub the salve down his back on either side of his spine.

"What? I can't imagine why people wouldn't adore me." Dorian snorted vigorously enough that Bull felt warm air huff against his skin.

"Well, that's a load of crap. But keep shovelling if it makes you happy." Bull wasn't going to argue the point because he knew damn well he was right. Moments later, Dorian sighed heavily.

"You're right."

"I know. But it's good to hear." Bull grunted as Dorian's fingers dug deep into a muscle knot. Handling a staff so much--dirty jokes aside--left mages with remarkably strong hands.

"I'm not certain I deserve this." Dorian leaned against Bull's back, seeking comfort and hiding at once. "I want this with you, to be a family, but when I brought it up, I didn't think you'd be so enthusiastic about raising a child with someone like me or that anyone would offer to carry it--least of all Krem, who has every reason to dislike me for what I am. It seemed an easy thing to say because it would never happen."

"As much as you like to play at being spoiled, getting what you need is something else," Bull said quietly. He reached back to stroke Dorian's cheek. "You should get used to it. We're already a family. This is what it's like: people doing things for you because it's what you need."


End file.
